Dream of Waking
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: The reaction of one to the presence of another; the sensations, the longing, the resentment harbored so deep inside them all. Series of vignettes.
1. Aria

**IXI**

Haruka inflamed him.

Ayato hated it. He hated the way his body reacted to her presence, hated the way the very sight of her sent his mind into a tailspin. It was confusing, utterly bewildering; on top of everything else he was dealing with it was completely unwanted.

But that didn't change the fact that it existed.

What was it about her, he tried so very often to discern, that did this to him? Was it the innocent allure she exuded –the childishness that lurked behind the warm chocolate of her eyes, a naivete that by all rights someone her age should have by now lost? Or was it the careful way she treated him, like he was an artifact just found that had been deemed for eons irretrievable?

No answer came. No answer ever came. And so things progressed, he the boy on the threshold of manhood and she the woman hiding a child somewhere deep inside, both watching, both waiting.

For what, he didn't know.

It grew harder to ignore. At times, watching her work and noticing the stray fall of hair across her brow or noticing the way her eyes darkened when under duress, he would feel a wave of almost overwhelming longing; it was an urge to touch her, to hold her, and it was a feeling he was almost certain he'd had before. But that was impossible, wasn't it? And at other times he'd notice the pleasing curves of her body, the way she moved with an unconscious sensual grace, and something in his lower regions would tighten with lust, with hunger, and he'd have to leave her company in order to gain some method of control over his body.

It was torment, and sometimes he despaired.

But other times, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, Ayato knew that this wasn't a terrible thing. Somehow he knew he was meant to experience this, and so much more that remained beyond his grasp.

How to attain what more beckoned was the true mystery.

**IXI**


	2. Cadence

**IXI**

He wished he was dead.

His guilt was a ravenous thing; it ate at him day and night and haunted him even in sleep. Every waking moment he was plagued by remorse until finally he felt as though he'd go mad. Nothing eased it, and nothing he could do could change the fact that he'd killed her.

He'd killed Hasahina.

Unwittingly, yes, but there was no denying the cold hard truth. What he'd done stained his soul as surely as her blood –the vivid, condemning blue that had sustained her- had painted their small, cramped hotel room. She'd loved him, he knew, and for the short time they'd been together he'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd learn to love her back.

All that was impossible now. He'd been brought back to Nirai Kanai more or less a prisoner, beset in his own private grief. Ridiculous, that the color of blood had dictated he be her executioner; how could these people ever hope to understand? They wouldn't, and so he continued to dwell mired in self imposed anguish.

He'd killed Hasahina.

He'd killed a Mu.

**IXI**


	3. Oratorio

**xXx**

Ayato Kamina's arrival on Nirai Kanai was nothing but a blur, a smudging of faces and names that pooled together and only served to confuse him further. Some did their best to reassure him and make him feel welcome, for he was after all the boy from Tokyo Jupiter, the boy who may or may not be Mulian. While he never heard their suspicions voiced about his heritage, he was old enough and wise enough to be able to read people and know to a degree what they thought. Their somewhat unfounded revelations _–how could he be Mu? His blood still ran red, didn't it?- _made him uneasy, made him angry, made him wonder where the hell he belonged, if he belonged anywhere at all.

There were some who attempted to make him feel at home, foremost among those Haruka, but again he read in her a bemusing contrast in opinions; her effect on him was more than confounding, besides. Mostly he resented these people, resented their sometimes reluctant hospitality, resented the lives they led that were so less complicated than his own.

And then he met Quon.

She was, he was told, the younger sister of the doctor, Itsuki Kisaragi, but the moment he laid eyes upon her he knew there was more to it, that it ran deeper. She was a slender, frail slip of a girl, with a head of very long, very thick reddish hair. Her eyes were what caught his immediate attention, being large, luminous and haunting grey that dominated her delicate, pale face. They were compelling because they were piercing while simultaneously being vague, seeming to see him for everything he was and beyond. He stumbled upon her one day while on his way to see the Xephon, and knew instantly from prior told description who she was.

They stood several paces of apart, regarding each other; Quon had cocked her head in a manner similar to that of a curious animal. As he stumbled through a greeting _–why was he so awkward around beautiful women?-_ she began to smile in a manner both endearing and enigmatic, and closed the distance between them with only a few steps.

"Rah Rah?" She asked quietly, her sweet, girlish voice a perfect companion to her doll-like appearance.

"I … P-pardon?" Kamina stuttered back.

"I've heard of you," she said, still smiling. She cocked her head slowly to the other side. "Will you sing?"

Kamina blinked. "Sing?"

She laughed then, a soft exhale. "Yes. Sing."

Completely stupefied, he stared at her, wondering if perhaps she was insane … funny no one had bothered to mention that aspect about her. "I'm going to be late," he said in a lame attempt to extract himself from her presence, and stepped around her.

"You'll sing someday, Ollin."

He'd made it three steps when her words stopped him; half turning with a frown at the bizarre title she'd given him, he said with no small amount of incredulity, "I will?"

She nodded once, clasping her hands together before her. "We'll sing together. Then things will be as they should be, Rah Rah. A world suffused with sound."

And with that she turned, making her way down the corridor and leaving Kamina speechless with confusion. Finally he shook his head and began to walk again, but he couldn't get her last words to him out of his head.

It was only later, much later, that he came to understand what she meant.

**xXx**


	4. Maestoso

**xXx**

Ayato was dying.

This Dolem wasn't like the others; this Dolem was stronger. And as the Xephon sank further into the clinging murk that had once been firm pavement, Kamina realized he'd been a fool. He'd grown too secure in his borrowed strength, too arrogant in knowing he had the power of a maybe deity behind him, and it had all come together in orchestration for this.

His downfall.

He screamed his rage as voices from his com-unit echoed all around him _–"Kamina? Ayato! KAMINA ARE YOU THERE?"- _trying to anchor him in this existence, in this reality. They were losing him –No, he amended bitterly, they were losing their prized weapon, their one up on the Mu. And part of him, he knew then, was glad that things should end such, glad that he'd leave them hanging. What had they done for him, besides holing him up and keeping an eternal eye on him, monitoring so very closely to see if he'd become Mu? And maybe, just maybe, he'd find his way back to Mishima, find the path back to Mother-

"_Ayato, PLEASE!"_

"Haruka," he whispered, covered to the neck now in a black fluid like substance that was slowly consuming him whole. One hand was extended, reaching for something even though there was nothing to reach for. The core of the Xephon was almost entirely swallowed by the darkness, by the song of the Dolem. He could feel it singing still, the air around him vibrating with the terrifying, enchanting cadence of its voice.

"_AYATO!"_

"H-Haruka," He said again, his own voice stronger. And suddenly he felt fingers wrap around his hand and was being pulled free from the muck, free from the sound. And who he saw infused him with iron resolve, with the grim determination that he would not die here, not like this.

He _would_ survive.

Under his will the Xephon surged upwards, breaking free of the Dolem's hold. And with its own scream –with Kamina's scream- it surged forwards, seizing the Dolem by the neck and flinging it effortlessly into a skyscraper. As the building toppled in a rush of debris and smoke, as the Dolem shrieked and its so very blue blood exploded through the air, Ayato knew pure exultation.

And later, when he set foot again on Nirai Kanai, he watched Haruka's eyes -bloodshot from thousands of tears cried- peruse his form, watched the dawning comprehension that what she was seeing was in fact Kamina, but somehow he was inexplicably different. _It was your voice_, he wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. And so he just smiled tiredly and told her things were okay, knowing that she knew they weren't.

But he had changed. He wasn't weak any longer. And soon, he'd make it known.

**xXx**


End file.
